Echoes of Time
by brynerose
Summary: With Nizam stopped and the dagger safe, Dastan thought that trouble might finally be behind him for a while, or at least the world threatening kind. The weight of his secret, especially from Tamina, was trouble of an entirely different sort. But time is a mysterious and unpredictable force in the best circumstances, even when the Sandglass remains intact...
1. Chapter 1

"Hold it steady there until I get the chain secured!" Dastan called to the hoisting team on the ground. He climbed through the very opening where the temporary rope held the new counterweight, took the chain attached to the metal bracketing, and carefully began the assent up the chute, leaping from wall to wall using chinks in the masonry for leverage.

In the gatehouse, more men were ready with the permanent rigging already threaded into the gate mechanism, simply waiting to be connected to the counterweight. Dastan made one last jump that should put him within reach of the opening, when the chain went taut. His arm felt nearly pulled out of socket from the force, and he had to reflexively kick out into near-splits to prevent himself from falling. Several concerned voices responded to his surprised shout.

"Are you all right, Sire?" one made himself clear in the echoing din.

"Yes, I'm fine, don't worry," grunted Dastan. "Hoist team, we need more height to reach the top!"

The temporary rope, which only ran to a pulley system in the gatehouse, thrummed at his back as the counterweight rose toward him. Momentum lost, he was forced to find big enough hand- and footholds to climb the rest of the way at the pace of the team.

His fingers touched the open ledge at last. A hand grabbed his forearm, while another took the chain from him. The supervising commander pulled him out of the chute.

"You know, there were probably less dangerous ways to do that," the man commented, shaking his head.

"They wouldn't have been as fast, though—that's good enough, hold it there!" Dastan shouted the last part down below.

Once the chain had been thoroughly tied in to the permanent rigging, the whole gate mechanism was tested for balance. Piece by piece, Alamut's material defenses were being restored. One of the other workers passed Dastan a ladle from the water bucket. He drank all of it, then part of a second helping before dumping the rest over his bare head and shoulders to cool off. It must be after midday.

"Is this really how Persian princes spend their time?" a sharp, clearly female voice suddenly rang out. Every man in the room spun to face the speaker. Princess Tamina stood in the doorway with her royal entourage, eyebrow raised. The workers all dropped into bows. Dastan tilted a nod to her, and grabbed the tunic he had cast aside before making the climb.

"When there is serious work to be done, yes. Come to inspect the progress?" He couldn't resist a grin at her determination to ignore the half-dressed state in which she found him.

"Only when it is serious work. After all, it is my city. Do you fancy death defying stunts every chance that you get, or are you simply hoping they will impress me?"

Dastan stepped closer, still grinning cheekily but retaining a measure of respect. "Is that a touch of concern I hear?"

"I would prefer not to hear of someone falling or being crushed in one of those shafts, regardless of who they are. What on earth were you thinking?"

"That may the gates withstand the next thousand years, now that they're working again. I think we can agree I bear a certain responsibility for the damage sustained—"

"You mean all of it."

"—The least I could do is see to some of the repairs personally."

Tamina didn't respond to this at first, instead motioning with her head for Dastan to follow. They descended the stairs to street level. People stopped and bowed to the princess all along the way to the palace. Once they reached a quieter stretch, she broke her silence. "I thought you would want to know that King Sharaman arrived a short while ago. He wished to speak with each of you before the formal banquet tonight."

 _So you decided to come to fetch me yourself?_

Dastan had to remind himself that this was not the same woman he had traveled and butted heads and begun to fall in love with. Not completely, anyway, not at this moment. In the aftermath since Nizam was thwarted, both he and Tamina barely had the chance to be in the same room. In Dastan's case, rebuilding gave him a bit of an escape until he could figure out how to approach her.

 _Give it time, it's only been a couple days,_ he chided himself silently. _You just have to build up the connection again. Someday you'll tell her the whole story._

"Hopefully Father will approve of the engagement, given everything that has happened," was what he said out loud.

"He's not the only one with a say in the decision, Prince. Your king may be the final authority for Persia, but I am the one who speaks for the best interest of Alamut, and for myself."

"A duty you carry out magnificently, my apologies." Dastan was thrown for a moment by the possibility that she might not agree to a union. His people remained here as guests, and penitent ones at that. Tamina was under no obligation to accept the proposal. Neither was Persia in any position to demand it.

The princess continued to regard Dastan's odd manners toward her with veiled curiosity for the rest of the journey to the palace. Dastan couldn't blame her. He was in a truly unique situation. Tus and Garsiv had quickly tracked down Nizam's so-called spy, who confirmed the plot to justify taking control of Alamut, and even knew of the secretly maintained Hassansins. The man's account largely precluded Dastan from having to explain anything. Tus and Garsiv concluded that Nizam must have seen Alamut's independent standing as a means to slink out from under his brother's shadow at last, possibly even to challenge him. Dastan didn't want to correct this assumption just yet.

But he knew that Tamina had to suspect more. Of all people, she would understand the gravity of his dilemma. He just couldn't figure out how to say it, or if he even should. And he wasn't about to tell his brothers the truth without telling the princess first. The Sands were not his secret to tell. He owed her that, whether she ever learned of their past—future? Alternate lives?—or not. The rest was a guilt he would have to live with.

At any rate, the rigors of the morning seemed to be catching up with him. Perhaps a rest was in order, somewhere between meeting with his father and preparations for the evening…oh no, he still had to make preparations…

"Ah—Your Highness, if I could ask one favor," he blurted out, upon reaching the hallway that split off between the guest apartments and the private royal chambers. Tamina paused, waiting for him to elaborate. For some reason, this made Dastan abruptly self-conscious. "Well, um, with the events that precipitated the king's visit, and the consideration of marriage as a potential resolution, we—I—would do well to offer a tribute to both appease and honor my father. He is a man of great integrity, with the highest deference for your city."

"At least someone in Persia respects what is sacred," she replied firmly, though her tone was not harsh. "Are you asking me to show him high regard in turn, or to help you mitigate his displeasure in actions you shouldn't have taken in the first place?" She hovered on the edge of a smile, perhaps enjoying Dastan's predicament just a bit.

"Well…yes. Both, I suppose. It would go a long way toward a favorable arrangement of marriage, too. But you're absolutely right, the attack shouldn't have happened at all. That's why I'm trying to do everything I can to put the situation right. I can't turn back time—"

He shouldn't, anyway, and knew the effect his words would have on her.

"—What I can do is hold myself accountable, by whatever means necessary." He bowed his head. Honest regret tightened in his chest.

Tamina studied him. He could feel that piercing gaze even though his own eyes were downcast, as she considered what he said. Not for the first time, he marveled at the weight and wisdom she exuded in moments like this. As if her duty as a guardian elevated her far beyond her years. She took a deep breath. "I can help you in this matter, Prince Dastan."

Dastan underestimated the intensity of his relief, crashing over him with the force of a desert wind. So much so, in fact, that he briefly swayed on the spot.

"Are you all right?" Tamina asked. There was no mistaking the attentiveness in her voice.

"Just a rush of the head, it's already passing. Busy morning, as you know."

"Go, take some refreshment. I will meet with you soon. There is still much to do before the day is over." With a nod, Tamina took her leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Dastan braced himself as he entered the seating area of his father's accommodations, eyes lowered. King Sharaman requested to see each of the princes individually. Dastan knew him to be a fair ruler, but in cases such as these, fairness still warranted consequences, especially regarding the nature of the first assault.

The greying king stood at a small table rather than sitting in the chair next to it. Dastan slowly approached.

"Father."

"Dastan," he greeted in turn. His voice gave away nothing of his current mood. "Disappointed though I am that the battle occurred, Tus and Garsiv both tell me you not only acted to minimize losses, but you were the one to uncover evidence of Alamut's true innocence, and stood resolutely in her defense."

"First, I want to express my utmost condolences that my uncle, your brother, was behind the plot. We would have seen him brought to you to stand trial, had he not forced me to defend myself by the sword, in front of the army…"

"A deep, regrettable blow. I am however gladdened that the three of you took care of each other even in that dark moment." Sharaman seemed to age ten years in the torchlight. His grief simmered underneath the practiced administrative demeanor.

"Second, I never should have let the attack happen, Father. I knew in my heart it was wrong, yet I didn't do enough to stop it. For that I am sorry as well."

"One of the hallmarks of a great man is to stand up for what he believes is right, no matter the consequences. I saw that potential in you that day in the market. A great man also does not dwell on the faults of the past. He accepts his responsibility, learns from it, and moves forward."

Dastan swallowed hard, recalling what had transpired the last time he heard those words. "I have been assisting in the rebuilding efforts, to ensure we put right the damage we caused." His father nodded.

"Tus mentioned as much, as well as the proposed solution to prevent this from happening again."

"A proposal of marriage, yes," affirmed Dastan, feeling his face go bright red, "with your approval, of course, and the princess' consent."

"Don't be shy, boy. It's time you considered taking a wife."

The mix of emotions in Dastan's chest threatened to make the room spin. He hadn't anticipated the difficulty of facing loved ones when he had seen each of them die right in front of him. When he knew so much they didn't know. It had been hard enough with his brothers, but standing before his father made the whole struggle unbearable. Would they even believe him if he tried to explain it? _Maybe someday…someday…_

"I only ask one thing," he finally said hoarsely. "That Princess Tamina has an equal voice in the arrangement. She is a ruler in her own right. In light of what has happened, she deserves that respect, most of all from Tus, Garsiv, and I."

"There's the boy I saw in the market, or rather, the man I hoped he would become." The king smiled warmly at his adoptive youngest son.

"Thanks to the father who found me."

A knock at the door, while timely, quietly disrupted the moment. The house attendant behind it announced the princess herself, who was accompanied by two plainly-dressed Alamutians, one holding a tablet and charcoal implement, the other a length of marked cord.

"As a token of that thanks, and for what is hopefully the start of a new peace and prosperity, I wish to present you with this gift," Dastan continued. The two Alamutians bowed. Sharaman looked between them with a questioning expression.

"I know you find a lot of spiritual meaning in holy relics, but it seemed wrong to take what is already precious from a holy city. These are the princess' court tailors. She has offered the best craftsmen of Alamut to fashion for you prayer robes in the heritage of those used in the temples for centuries. That way you can carry the tradition of the holiest places with you, always."

The king embraced Dastan, his laugh deep and jovial. "A gift I will certainly treasure, my son. Even so, know that the actions you have shown over the past days are one of the greatest gifts a father could receive. Well done." More solemn, he turned to Tamina. "Now then, to the matter of the proposal. Your graciousness is beyond compare, Your Highness, to treaty with my sons once the truth of the attack came to light. What would you ask of Persia, to make satisfactory terms?"

"If it is a new subject within your kingdom you hope to add to your legacy, you have come to the wrong place," Tamina answered levelly. The room dropped to utter silence. Dastan found himself holding his breath. The princess glanced directly at him, before returning her gaze to Sharaman. "But if you seek a partnership, a new perspective, a greater spiritual connection, perhaps we may benefit one another as formal allies."

"You could remain a sovereign holy place, while also being party to the Persian council on matters of the empire, and having an equal share in council actions. In return, you would have Persia's protection should the need arise. Access to trade, to resources, provided you do not deal with our enemies, or act in a manner that should harm or defy the empire as a whole."

"There will be much to discuss in further detail. However, for the purposes of accepting or declining an offer of alliance…I agree to move forward, as pledged by a betrothal to marry. My only other requirement is that we settle the final terms first, then we can go through with the wedding."

"Very well." Collective tensions relaxed. Sharaman gripped Dastan's shoulder. "And you, my son, the blessing that has completed my family, would serve your king in this alliance, a bridge between ruling houses to maintain peace?"

"I will, Father," said Dastan.

Clapping rose in the poignant silence following his words; Tus and Garsiv managed to slip back into the chamber toward the end. Both were grinning from ear to ear. Dastan flushed with embarrassment all over again as his brothers barreled into him with their congratulations.

"It's not all done with yet, the treaty itself—"

"Enough with the formalities!" crowed Garsiv. "Leave the negotiations for tomorrow, celebrate tonight!"

"You've earned it, Dastan," Tus chimed in.

Of all things, what appealed to Dastan the most was some peace and quiet for a change. He felt that hint of unsteadiness once more, masked from outside notice by the way his brothers pulled him along to get ready for the banquet. _Get your head together! You'll have some food, have some wine, let the music drown out most of the conversation, and eventually find a chance to slip away. Just hold out until then._

A banquet commanded a certain level of finery, especially considering Tamina was the official hostess, but even Dastan was stunned by her appearance in full court regalia. Gold and ivory, delicate fabrics and painted motifs on her skin, at once rich, ethereal, and yet simple in their design. Nothing like the trappings when she was presented as a trophy.

After the proper greetings and declarations were exchanged—making the engagement public—the room at large was released to celebrate. King Sharaman made himself one of the first to approach Dastan and the princess together.

"In Persia, royal betrothals are usually marked by exquisite hair jewels for the bride to be. In this case, you already wear a crown, and rightly so. Thus I offer an alternative, as a personal gift." An aide passed him an ornate box. "I had this made for my queen for our wedding day. May it grace your great beauty, as it did hers."

Inside the box was a woven bangle with fine gold chain ending in a set of fitted rings. Sharaman indicated for Dastan to (sheepishly) take the jewelry, both in awe and frantically working out in his head how to work the fragile looking piece. It turned out that they slipped just perfectly around her wrist and center finger. The chains framed the mark of her guardianship as if meant to be there all along.

"Thank you. It is a truly precious gift," Tamina marveled.

Others extended their congratulations as the evening continued. Dastan couldn't decide what his stomach thought of the idea of food, now that he was here—maybe it was simply in his head, hunger turned sour after the eventful day, or too much going on around him to whet much of an appetite. Whatever it was, he had trouble shaking it.

"Of course, Garsiv lost the advantage as soon as they got up into the tree. Dastan's always had a knack for acrobatics," Tus regaled the cluster of people around them. Everyone laughed, even Tamina smiled with amusement. All of a sudden Dastan felt very strange. The room may as well have been filled with sand, the way his limbs began to weigh on him. Closing in. Stuffy. His senses muddling.

The princess seemed to catch on to the change. How, he couldn't fathom. Her smile dropped. She leaned toward him. "Dastan, are you feeling all right?"

Before he could answer, all strength went out of his legs. Tamina let out a yelp as she tried to catch him without toppling over herself. Garsiv hooked his other arm, being the closest person on that side. A flurry of conversation buzzed around him, but he had increasing trouble following it.

"What's happened?"

"What caused this?"

"He's hardly eaten anything, that could be all he needs. Unless you think a dish looked suspect."

"But we've all been served from the same platters. No one else is feeling ill, are they?"

"Has he stepped out at any time, or could it have been something earlier?"

"And not show signs until now?"

"Perhaps it's just exhaustion. He's been working himself day in and day out since we arrived."

"Whatever the cause, this is not the place to seek answers. We need to move to a more private chamber, quickly…"


	3. Chapter 3

Awareness returned to Dastan very slowly. He picked up on multiple low voices, some closer than others. His immediate surroundings were hazy. Rippling, like mirages in the desert. Everything felt ten times heavier when he tried to move.

Cool hands touched his arm, then his forehead. "You may do better staying still. Do you remember what happened?" asked a soothing voice. A familiar one…

"Is that concern…?"

The speaker huffed in exasperation. Yes, he was right. Dastan carefully explored the sensations closest to his reach with as little movement as get could get away with. The surface on which he lay had a cushiony feel to it.

"Where am I…"

"One of my courtiers' chambers, it was the closest private room we could get to," replied Tamina. "You developed a fever, we noticed it when you collapsed. The healers are working on a remedy."

"Was there anything out of the ordinary today? Anyone who might have seemed out of place, or acting strange?" A second presence barged in with Garsiv's voice.

Dastan scrunched his face in confusion. "What? Nothing happened, I didn't see, hear, come across anything…" He finally convinced his eyes to open. The room was not as big as he thought, with what looked like one small antechamber and a side door. His father and oldest brother remained against the wall opposite the bed, Garsiv of all people to his immediate left at the bedside, Tamina to the right, and finally two healers and their underlings passing in and out of the antechamber. No wonder the air felt stuffy.

Aside from fever heat, faint chills raced up and down his limbs despite blankets covering him. One of the healers came forward with damp, folded linen, which she put across his forehead.

"It's possible he simply contracted a foul vapor, or overexerted himself, Your Highness," she said quietly to her mistress.

"We know for sure it's not some kind of poisoned or infected wound?" Tus cut in. Dastan had never seen his family so on the verge of panic. The healer turned to the elder prince.

"We have found nothing of the kind."

"In any case, only so many people can do much good in here. We can hardly move among each other," the second healer addressed the room at large. "Go back to your quarters for the night. The attendants will fetch you with all speed if there is a development."

"He's our brother, son to the king of Persia. We have a right to be at his side!" protested Garsiv.

"You are also guests in my palace, and if you want the best care for him, my healers need room to work. Please, I assure you, you will be immediately notified of any change," Tamina pressed sharply.

"How do we know you don't have a hand in this?"

" _Garsiv_!" warned King Sharaman.

The princess stared them down. "I swear on the bond forged between our kingdoms not hours ago, this is not my doing nor that of anyone in my court."

"I trust her," Dastan managed to force out. He had begun to feel strange again. Close above him, a glistening pendant hung on a chain around Tamina's neck. Somewhere in his memory, this held significance. Tamina noticed his drawn attention as well.

"If you all would, please?" She gestured to the door, firmer in her tone this time.

Very reluctantly, the three men trooped out, and none too soon. A discomfort had built up in Dastan's chest, to the point where he felt as if his ribs had been laid open. He tried to focus on something else, at least until he spied spots of blood through the light cover.

"Um, help…what's going on? Tamina, what's going on?"

The sight completely ruffled her demeanor for the first time in this whole situation. Beneath the soft fabric, his open shirtfront revealed a long slash that hadn't been there before. An assistant rushed forward with a clean cloth to staunch the bleeding, which was steady though not perfuse. Dastan grimaced at the pressure. Fear threatened to overwhelm him.

Tamina grabbed the other assistant. "Go to the library, quickly. Tell Raveen I need the book of the guardians. Don't speak to anyone on the way. I may know what this is, but I have to be sure," she rapped quietly. He bowed, and hurried out.

Both healers joined the bustle. One checked the extent and status of the mysterious wound, while the other held a small cup, clearly meant for Dastan. The liquid had a strong taste to it.

"You don't have to take all of it at once. It's to lower the fever," the wiry older woman explained.

Dastan tried not to choke, between the tincture and his hitched breathing from the pain. The medicine did seem to clear his head ever so slightly, however, allowing him to somewhat gather his wits. Upon second glance at his chest, he realized he _had_ seen something like it before.

"That's not possible…"

Tamina's face turned serious. "Dastan, since the day we met I could tell there was something different about you. Your reverence for the dagger when you presented it to me. As if you knew its full significance…"

"I didn't know how to tell you," confessed Dastan. "This has something to do with the Sands of Time, doesn't it, the farther one travels back?"

"So you _do_ know of the Sandglass, you've _used_ it! I feared as much, the way you knew of your uncle's deception, how you tiptoe around every conversation. How _dare you_ make yourself out like some kind of selfless hero…" Her wide eyes were a maelstrom of emotions. Dastan's heart plummeted under that look.

"It wasn't by my hand, I swear, I tried to prevent it—in the, the other time, I guess you would say, Nizam pierced the Sandglass before I could stop him!"

"Why would _he_ be so determined to turn back time?"

"In order to change history, make himself king of Persia instead of my father, and circumvent my brothers altogether. It's a long story. The greater issue right now is that none of them know about the dagger, the Sands, or the lengths my uncle went to!"

"I'm supposed to believe you didn't tell anyone what Nizam's true goal was here?" she retorted incredulously, her tone still low and dangerous.

"I confess it's the most difficult decision I've ever made. Father prizes trust and family above all else in his court. I was torn between honesty, and wanting to spare my family further grief over something that technically never happened. Most importantly, I wanted to respect your responsibility as guardian, your mission, after everything I saw. That even you didn't know I knew. I'm…I'm sorry I didn't admit the truth to you sooner…and I'm willing to shoulder any consequences I have to for my part, just tell me why it's doing _this_?"

The first healer lifted the bloodied linen. Underneath, the wound appeared to have begun congealing. Tamina bit her trembling lip.

"There is a rare account, little more than hearsay, that turning back time creates ripples. Echoes, that only the one who committed the act can feel. Major events now foregone or altered. It is said the power of the Sands weighs like a sickness on that person."

"Sounds about right."

"Of course, we have very little to go on, I'm afraid. Using the Sandglass is—"

"Forbidden, so it's not something you would have much record of. I understand." A throb in his chest forced Dastan to pause. "My hand was on the dagger when I managed to overpower my uncle, but he had released enough. I found myself back here in Alamut, at the end of the battle. That's when I realized I had the chance to stop everything that happened, all the damage my uncle did. Like I said, it's a long story."

"We have time for you to tell it." Tamina helped him straighten the falling compress. Dastan saw that her crown and most of her finery was gone, except for the betrothal gift. His hand lingered on hers.

"I didn't know any different when we set the attack in motion, although I never fully agreed with the decision. Perhaps if I had stood up to my brothers more…for that, I am sorry."

"The past is meant to be the past. What matters is how you move forward. Don't let it worry you now," insisted the princess.

"Do you want me to tell the story or not? You were rightfully angry when we did take the city—back then—and you weren't afraid to show it. Adding insult to injury, you were pressed to agree to marriage in order to protect your people. But then everything started to go wrong. A robe I presented to my father turned out to be poisoned, making it look like I murdered him. You wanted to get the dagger back, so you helped me escape."

"I take it we did so successfully?"

"Yes, only you tried to kill me after we made camp for the night. That's how I actually discovered the dagger's power, completely by accident. In my shock I let my guard down, and gave you the chance to slash right across my chest with my own sword." He glanced down, wincing at both the memory and the present ache.

Tamina's brow furrowed. "This exact wound?"

Dastan nodded. The further he got into his explanation, the more worn out he felt. As if sensing this, Tamina beckoned the healer with the stone cup forward.

"See if you can drink a little more of this, and then rest. We can continue tomorrow."

He wanted to protest the latter suggestion, except as soon as he took the second drink, the impulse to sleep intensified. There must be something in the concoction, or else he was really that poorly off. The last thing he registered was the sense of Tamina tucking the blankets closer around him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dastan's mind was a flurry of rapid images, glimpses of sand dervishes, storms, and dark, deadly figures. His heart jumped out of his chest as a viper sprang straight at his face, spitting venom from bared fangs.

"Sire, can you hear me? You're only having a dream."

The viper disappeared. Dastan's eyes snapped open. His surroundings were much brighter, highlighting an alabaster room with rich yet simple furnishings. One of the healers gripped his shoulder—that must have woken him. In the healer's other hand was a steaming bowl.

"I have some soup here, if you're feeling up to it. Build your strength a little more."

"Could I have some water first?" croaked Dastan. His throat felt like it barely worked, it was so dry. Within a few seconds an assistant joined them with the requested drink. The cool liquid made a world of difference.

They situated him a bit higher on the pillows. In this process his noticed the cut across his chest was gone. "What…how could it have healed so quickly?"

"It faded during the night," Tamina spoke up. She sat a little further back, next to a small table on which rested an aged text. "I've been searching through every record we have relating to the Sands and how they work. If this account is to believed, physical injuries sustained in the previous time are the most likely 'echoes' one might experience. I think we can confirm that part. They are real and illusion at the same time."

Dastan swallowed hard. "So they feel real, but just disappear in the end? What if the wound is more serious? Could…could a person still die from it, if the echo persists long enough?"

"I'm not…the manuscript isn't clear." Tamina paled at this, correctly reading into Dastan's unease.

"If we can prepare…perhaps we can treat future wounds diligently enough until they fade, just as we would any injury," the healer timidly offered. Dastan attempted a grateful smile. His appetite had evaporated.

"That may be the best we have to go with," replied Tamina. "The account also lacks any description of how long an echo lasts, or the time that spans between them. It stands to reason that perhaps the episodes would follow the same pattern as they occurred before, but the author refers to the process as a convergence, basically a collapsing of the previous time. I'm not sure we can do much more than wait it out."

A knock at the door jarred them all out of the grim discussion. Tamina waved for the visitor to be admitted. An advisor of the court bowed as he reached them.

"Your Highness, the Persian crown prince wishes to see his brother's progress for himself," said the wizened man.

Dastan pulled at the covers so that no stray traces of blood could be seen. "Just what I need, more hovering and questions."

"If you're not feeling up to it, I think we can all agree your wellbeing outranks anyone wanting to visit. The healers could step out and explain the…less pernicious symptoms," Tamina reasoned, worried.

"We can't begin to explain what we don't understand ourselves. They're only going to believe it's simply fever and dizziness for so long. What then?"

"What if you have another episode while he's in the room, how do we explain that? I am poring over every shred of writing that could yield clues, maybe give us a better premise for your condition, something they might find more believable. There is too much at stake to tell them of the Sands. Not if we can help it, no matter how much you may vouch for them."

"Nor would I have your sworn duty revealed unless you decided to allow it. He'll be worse if you turn him away. And more suspicious."

"Forgive me, can I truly take you at your word? What of your trust in family that the Persian throne values so highly?"

"It _does_. You may just have to trust me, as you apparently trust your advisors and healers not to speak of what they overhear."

Tamina glared back waspishly. For lack of further counterarguments, however, she nodded to the waiting man.

"Taking full advantage of the hospitality, I see," greeted Tus upon entering the room. "It almost begs the question whether this was all a ruse in order to gain some, shall we say personal attention, in light of your engagement. I know, I know, I mean it in jest," he disclaimed as the comment was met with nonplussed looks, "but really, how are you feeling, Dastan?"

"Overly mothered. Steadier than last night, at least," Dastan answered, cracking a smile in spite of himself. His brother took the response in stride.

"Any further indication what this might be?" Tus' gaze landed on the volumes Tamina had just tucked aside. When she reflexively shielded the open contents, he attempted to reach for them; Dastan grabbed his arm to stop him. The crown prince looked from one to the other, torn between incredulity and alarm. "Dastan, what's going on?"

"I wish we had more of an explanation for you, honestly I do—"

"It should pass with time, though it may ebb and flow before it fully resolves," Tamina cut in. Tus glared at her.

"You do know something, then, don't you? That's why you're still here when your healers sent the rest of us out," he insisted.

"This is _my_ kingdom, Prince, and my prerogative as to how I handle serious concerns in my household," bristled Tamina.

"When it concerns a prince of Persia, any prince, then we have a prerogative as well! Or is the reason you guard your secrets so closely because they _do_ play a part in the current situation?"

"Some matters are more difficult than that," Dastan countered. "There is no plot here, no intent to harm, nor any hidden danger waiting to spread. It's just not something one can easily convey."

"Yet it appears to be far from inconsequential, I can see it in your faces. I'm your brother, you know you can tell me anything," Tus practically begged.

Dastan couldn't mask his regret. "Please, I need you to trust me right now, as my brother. And I need you to not tell anyone else, not Father, no one. The fewer people involved, the less complicated, hopefully, it will be."

"Why do you speak like this…?" Tus studied them both very carefully, trying to measure his next words. "Does this still have something to do with Nizam, why he chose to target Alamut? There was more to his ambition than merely a throne for himself, wasn't there, or at least more to how you discovered his plans?"

This time he was the one gripping Dastan's arm.

"I can't promise that I'll be able to tell you everything. Not because I don't trust you…it's not my decision to make, and I have to honor that. I'm not exaggerating when I say there's much more at stake."

More silence. Tamina's expression was unreadable. Tus, however, exuded a clear struggle to wrap his head around the cryptic discussion. Meanwhile Dastan could feel the conversation beginning to wear on him mentally and physically. He had slipped down in the pillows a fair ways. Sitting back up proved arduous, which was not lost on the others. Tamina was on instant alert.

"Are you still feeling all right? Do you need anything?" she asked quietly.

"I've pressed you too long," fretted Tus. "This complicated matter you speak of, you're sure there are no other connections to it outside this room? Nothing we might need to see to?"

Dastan shook his head. "I would never hide that from you. The threat itself is over, everyone can rest easy."

"Except in your case, apparently. I will rest easy when you're recovered, as I know you will. Your stubbornness alone should prove that."

"I suppose it does come in handy."

"You know Garsiv and I admire that about you, even when you're flying in the face of orders. In the end we wouldn't have you any other way. Father knew what he was doing."

"There had to be some reason you kept me around."

"Like a stray pup."

They both chuckled good-naturedly. Tus composed himself first. "Well, I'd best not get you too worked up. Until you're on your feet again, the rest can wait for another time. I will keep your silence. Just promise me if there is a more serious turn, for better or worse, you won't leave us completely in the dark. Take care of him, Princess." Tus gave Tamina a respectful nod, and took his leave.

A beat of quiet passed.

"What did he mean, your father knew what he was doing?" Tamina spoke up.

"We joke with each other all the time about who's really family, it's what brothers do," shrugged Dastan.

"The two of you respect your father far too much to mention him lightly, that much I do know. I also know the pressures of being born and raised with strict expectations. The life of a royal family isn't all banquets and riches."

"My life _wasn't_ always that way. I wasn't _born_ into any of it. The only home I knew for years was the slums of Nasaf…orphaned, trying to survive day by day, until the king happened to be riding through the market one day. A gang of soldiers had caught a friend of mine who had done nothing wrong, and I tried to stop them. The king witnessed the whole thing. For whatever reason, he decided then and there to…I don't know, adopt me."

Tamina stared at him in mild shock.

"Many people, including Nizam, questioned that choice. I was old enough that I had my own opinions, my own ways of doing things, which has been a thorn in quite a few sides at times. But my loyalty has and always will be to the family that saved me." Dastan realized he had talked himself into a headache. The fever seemed to be making a clammy resurgence as well.

"So before, in the previous time," Tamina said slowly, "it must have been very hard to see your father die, to have your own court think you were the murderer."

"To my shame, I thought Tus was behind it at first—being next in line for the throne, and the one who suggested I present the robe to our father, only to not be at the banquet that night. I also believed my uncle was the sole person I could trust, so I had to get to Avrat, where the king's funeral was to be held. Um, could I have some more water?"

Tamina gestured to one of the healers' assistants, who nodded and fetched the drink. Dastan's head really did bother him now. "Anyway, things really didn't go according to plan."

"Sneaking into a Persian city on high alert? Imagine my surprise," snickered Tamina, though not cruelly.

"Not much help from you at the time, either. I needed the dagger as proof that the attack on Alamut wasn't what we thought it was. You, of course, wanted to get the dagger back and leave me behind any way you could. Let's just say it was an eventful battle of wits across an impressive distance—that's a story of its own."

"You're just going to skip all of it?" Tamina's amused smile was a greater medicine to Dastan than any tincture the healers could come up with.

"The whole series of misadventures is kind of beside the main point. Probably good for a laugh, though, maybe I will tell you someday," he shrugged. "In the end you made off with the dagger, which might have actually been for the best, as it turned out Nizam was the architect of everything, in order to get to the Sands."

"He was the second born, wasn't he? What good would turning back time do him?"

"As a boy, he saved my father from a lioness, she stalked them while they were hunting one day. Not only did he prevent himself from becoming king, he had to be reminded of it for years. It was—is—my father's favorite story. A shining example of family being the strongest bond you could have."

"Your uncle jealously sought the Persian throne, _that_ was his reason?"

Dastan bowed his head, a feat that took little effort given his posture in bed and how drained he felt. "I told you all of this when I finally caught up to you in the desert, and you told me the truth about the Sandglass. Together we made for the sanctuary in hopes of keeping the dagger safe."

"I take it that didn't go as planned," sighed Tamina.

"We ran into some trouble along the way. First we encountered some old, ahh, friends from the aforementioned misadventures—"

"You're really going to keep dancing around the subject, aren't you?"

"Okay, I might have decided to cut through the Valley of the Slaves—turns out it's not what either of us expected. You managed to take me by surprise, knock me out, and leave me for the slavers, I made a deal with them to catch up with you…anyway, we didn't leave on the most amicable terms."

"The great 'Lion of Persia,' bested by a woman half his size?" Tamina raised an eyebrow, laughing quietly. "Must have bruised your ego somewhat."

"I got my retribution, I promise you. But they were the lesser of our concerns. Nizam sent Hassansins to track us down, take back the dagger. Unfortunately, they also knew of the sanctuary, and ambushed us there. Garsiv and his patrol tracked us as well. I had only just begun to convince him of the truth when he was killed in the skirmish."

"First the loss of your father, then one of your brothers? All in the name of one man seizing the Sands of Time for himself, it's unthinkable. And on top of that, employing Hassansins against his own family."

"They weren't even supposed to exist anymore. My father had them disbanded years ago, an order my uncle clearly ignored." At this moment Dastan's head gave such a throb that his breath hissed. Tamina set about trying to make him more comfortable.

"I shouldn't have let you carry on for so long. Try to relax a while, the remainder of the story can wait."

"But there's still—"

"Not if you talk yourself to exhaustion, the way you're looking right now. I'll tell you what, if you're still awake in an hour—a quiet hour—we can pick it up again. The healers and I will try to keep close watch for anything that doesn't seem right."

Tamina emphasized this with moving back to the table with her research. The healers, on the other hand, closed in with their medicines and trappings. Dastan wasn't left with much of a choice.


	5. Chapter 5

Dastan awoke so suddenly and forcefully that he didn't initially know what was happening. The room was dark, aside from the faint glow of torches beyond the curtains, on the balcony. He gasped for breath, and yet the tiniest movement was agony. Warmth spread at the center of his chest. _Oh, no…_

"Help…I need help!" he croaked, voice barely rising above his pounding heartrate. One hand clutched at the covers over the epicenter of the pain; the fabric quickly dampened. The other fumbled clumsily for someone, anyone nearby. "Tamina! It's…I'm…"

A gasp triggered an abrupt coughing spasm, further pain, and a pitiful moan. His roaming hand brushed something solid, something that moved, followed by a yelp of surprise.

"Dastan, what's wrong? Farrah, come quickly, bring light!" Tamina's voice shifted quickly from drowsy confusion to sharp insistence.

Dastan tried to pull her hand toward him, pushing the blankets away at the same time. Neither move was very successful in his current state, but the princess got the message. She exposed his chest just as the healers rushed in with a flame to rekindle the indoor sconces, which illuminated a large, dark, wet stain. Both women clapped their hands to their mouths.

"Grab everything we have, now!" Tamina snatched the compress from Dastan's forehead, the closest thing she could use to stem the gaping hole that had appeared. Dastan cried out in earnest from the pressure. It took both her and Farrah to keep him somewhat still.

"Try not to struggle, your Highness. It will only hasten the bleeding," said the greying healer.

"Stay with me. That's it, keep looking into my eyes, please," begged Tamina.

Dastan's vision began wavering in and out of focus, or was that just the flicker of the torchlight? Tamina's cool hand cradled his cheek, so his head couldn't slip to the side. He brought his shaky hand up to rest on hers, and a delicate chain brushed his palm. His adoptive mother's bangle and rings.

"You're still wearing it…"

"It was a gift." Her words quavered, almost to a whisper. "Did this happen during the battle at the sanctuary?"

"What…?"

"Where you left off in the story, I made you pause to rest. Were you wounded there?"

"No…though the Hassansins did overwhelm us. You were knocked out before you could return the dagger to the gods…I can't say I was entirely sorry at the time, to be honest. I wasn't ready to let you go, whether it protected the world or not." Dastan attempted to turn his grimace into a smile for her. The position of the stab wound made breathing incredibly difficult. He could only speak in quick bursts. "So as I said, they stole the dagger. We had to follow them, back to Alamut, not just for the dagger itself, but to protect the Sands. In order to take on my uncle, however, we needed allies. Tus was still in the city…overseeing the supposed search for evidence of treachery—yes, I know you have no weapons forges, the accusations were all part of Nizam's lies."

"How were we to make it passed the guards alive, let alone convince your brother of the truth?"

"With some help from some new friends, as well as palace servants loyal to you…first we managed to get the dagger back, and you and I slipped into the royal chambers. I had to force Tus' hand somewhat, make him see in such a way that couldn't be ignored…I explained as fast as I could, what Nizam was doing, how the dagger worked…and then I plunged the blade into my own chest…"

Tamina went stark white, redoubling the healer's efforts to stem the current bleeding. Dastan fought to remain conscious through the pain. Waves of vertigo distorted his perception. The occasional shift in pressure to his chest, whispers between others in the room, anything going on around him made less and less sense. How much longer could this continue? The thought of his family sprang into this head, so unexpected that he attempted to sit up. Unsuccessfully, of course.

"How do we explain…if I don't make it through this…"

"Don't say that, you're going to be fine. I'm right here with you, just hold on a little longer. Keep telling the story."

Despite every effort to do so, he could feel his grasp slipping bit by bit. Never quite into blackness, but hovering on the edge. On and on this extended, an endless corridor of fiery torment.

He couldn't quite pinpoint when the agony plateaued, and at last began to ebb. Whether by paralysis or simply exhaustion, Dastan could hardly move, let alone speak. Delirium muddled his senses. What was left of his energy seemed to drain away as the episode receded. Still, something about his demeanor must have changed, because the presences hovering nearby became less frantic, a solid strength he could latch onto.

"Easy now, let the fading do its work," a kind voice coaxed. Dastan wasn't about to argue.

A different kind of pressure encircled his chest, he felt it every time he breathed in. One hand wandered up to investigate. Fingers closed on top of his, though they didn't mask the folds of linen stretched across his ribs. If he really concentrated, he could make out a petite silhouette leaning close in the predawn light. "How long…?"

"Mere hours. Farrah took a chance and stitched the…the wound, hoping it would slow things enough for bandages to do the rest until, well, as you know. Then we fed you small amounts of water at a time. The wound may be temporary, but as far as we can tell the loss of blood is very real."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily…"

This drew a quiet laugh from Tamina. She took his hand in both of hers, tucked it protectively under her chin. Close enough that Dastan could feel her heartbeat. Her cool touch compared to his abating fever.

"And what of your brother?" she asked. "It must have been horrible for him as well, seeing you resort to such drastic measures…"

"I trusted our bond as family, that he would use the dagger, and realize he could stop me from doing it again. Which he did, thankfully."

"You shouldn't have had to go so far to be heard."

"Exactly what he said, in fact. You two might just get along better than you think." A dull throb, nothing like the height of the episode, made him pause a moment. Tamina frowned. She beckoned someone forward—the other healer, he must have taken over to let Farrah rest after the previous commotion.

"It's passing now. For that matter we're nearly to the end of the whole previous time, and then this trial can be over. We can start moving forward," insisted Dastan.

Tamina remained quiet. Dastan tried, in vain, to catch her eye. "Tamina…? It _is_ almost over, right?"

"I…I don't know…the forces at work here are powerful, the hand of the gods themselves. The text only mentions a 'judgment' of the dagger holder's true character as the threads of time meet. It doesn't say what that means, or how it might play out."

"At the sanctuary, you were willing to accept destiny, even if it meant death. Maybe this is mine. I'm not exactly blameless in what happened."

"But you said yourself, you did not commit the forbidden act, and you put a stop to it before the destruction became irreversible."

"Does this power make the distinction? I saw no disadvantage to using the dagger at first, in fact I readily made use of the small amount carried in the hilt. I was the one sent back with the dagger in the end. Considering everything I've endured so far, I'd say the judgment has already been made."

"Yet listen to how much you've changed as a result. Destiny is as ever-present as the Sands. It is also fluid, shifting and changing shape. Do not disregard the impact of faith."

"Faith in what, in this case? Do you have such faith, Princess? Because I don't even know where to start. What reason would they have to show leniency simply because I wanted to be spared?"

She caressed his shoulder gently with one hand, the one adorned with the bangle. Her features looked like they wished so desperately to convey what she couldn't seem to find in words.

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 **Sigh, that took longer than I wanted...reminder to self, I should finish stories before posting them, I should finish stories before posting them, I should finish stories before posting them...**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: So, this chapter has fought me for every. Effing. Inch. I'm still not the most confident about it, but if I was going to lose my mind if I didn't get it posted soon. Seriously, this kind of delay makes me crazy. I hate leaving people hanging for that long. But without further ado, here you go ::faceplants into pillow::**

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"Ahhh, to feel the sun properly again," Dastan relished, leaning back on the bench, against the alabaster wall. "The view from up here really is stunning." Next to him, Tamina gave him an amused smile.

"You'd be surprised what you notice when you take the time to look around, instead of barging in swords first."

"I'm going to be hearing that for a while yet, aren't I?"

"Well, you did invade my city, based on false information no less. I think a little reminding from time to time is in order."

Lingering soreness hampered Dastan from being able to do much of anything, but he was desperate to get out of that room even for a short jaunt. The small balcony connected to it would have to do. He gazed out at the desert horizon, wondering what everyone else was up to, the people they met on that journey. How their lives might go on unchanged now. "I could almost stand to see an ostrich race…"

"I beg your pardon?" sputtered Tamina.

"It's really very amusing to watch, if you don't take it too seriously."

"What exactly would possess you to watch it in the first place?"

"Oh, the…the more complicated part of the story. As I mentioned before, we cut through the Valley of the Slaves to get to Avrat. It was the quickest route from Alamut, and our best chance at avoiding the Persian patrols that were after us. We just didn't bank on what was waiting for us there."

"…And that involved ostrich racing?"

"It involved uh, businessmen keeping their endeavors out of the reach of tax collectors. An impressive establishment, really, not just the wooden racecourse and stands. Trading, accommodations for those too drunk to travel on, granted I'm not sure some of them get around to leaving. Even a cave system fitted with secure gates. The self-styled 'sheik' runs quite the booming business under a reputation that he knew soldiers wouldn't waste the resources to confront."

"You're not _serious_ —"

"The bloodthirsty slaves are pure myth. Although his right-hand man is an unnerving blade thrower, so it's a bad idea to cross him all the same. Easier to propose a deal."

"Oh? What kind of deal could you possibly offer them as a fugitive?"

"One that also allowed me to repay you for your clever tactics, at least until they decided the price on my head was worth turning me in to the nearest outpost anyway. Thankfully you chose to stir up a distraction. Then we had to work together to escape, again; I told you I would give the dagger back if you helped me get into Avrat and reach my uncle."

"Just a moment, _how_ exactly did you repay me?" Tamina fixed him with a suspicious glare. Dastan couldn't quite meet her eye.

"I…might have said I bought you as a slave, and promised to trade you in return for supplies—in my defense, that was after the second time you intended me dead one way or another."

"You mean when I was acting on my sacred duty to keep the dagger out of the wrong hands, including allies only by virtue of shared peril?"

"If you call pretending to faint in order to bash me over the head an act of sacred duty. Remember I had a personal mission to protect, too."

"So you resorted to petty retribution, how noble of you. Very mature."

"Okay, I wasn't taking this part seriously. I didn't understand yet the stakes that were in play!" blustered Dastan. "Anyway, it turned out to be a benefit that the sheik tracked us in hopes of still claiming the reward. We would have stood no chance at the sanctuary, or been able to get the dagger back if we hadn't convinced them to join us. Well, bribed them to. They couldn't really resist the offer of tax-free gold."

"Heaven forbid they think of anyone besides themselves. Some things should be done simply because they are right." She hesitated, cleared her throat.

Dastan noticed her eyes kept wandering over the shadow at the base of his ribs, just visible thanks to his loose, open shirt. "It's okay, you know. Like you said, because it was the right thing. No matter the consequences."

"I suppose I wasn't prepared to see the extent of those consequences…"

"Is it that different from you pledging your life to protect the dagger? To protect the world? It wasn't just about proving innocence anymore, Nizam had to be stopped. As long as Tus kept up the search orders in Alamut, there was a chance Nizam could reach the Sandglass."

Tamina placed a hand over the mark on Dastan's chest, an unusually intimate gesture for her, even after the past few days. "So did your brother listen to you?"

"Yes, but our uncle answered the guards' alarm himself. We underestimated his determination. He killed Tus without hesitation, the only family either of us had left, taking the dagger once again with the help of his Hassansin devils…" Dastan paused. A detail of the memory clicked into place. "The Hassansin, I don't know how to say this…you discovered how Nizam learned about the dagger and the Sands in the first place. That particular Hassansin used to be one of your priests.

"I tell you this because although Nizam is gone, they are still out there. My father is aware of this; he has vowed to track them down for good, but you deserve to know, as the guardian."

"Thank you. It is a serious blow to the temple, that we have been so corrupted from within. Perhaps, however, we have also gained new partners," Tamina processed out loud. Her striking doe eyes shyly tried to meet his.

"I will continue to help you keep it safe, as long as you'll have me," he promised.

"I'm not sure that's necessarily my determination to make. Some things are revealed only by—"

"Destiny. You told me once. Or rather, the previous you. When we raced Nizam to reach the Sandglass, that destiny forced me to face the hardest decision of my life."

The princess' brow furrowed with concern.

"In the struggle, we both went over the cavern's edge. I could either stop Nizam in time, or I could try to save you…you made me let you go in order to protect the rest of the world, said that it was meant to be me all along, instead of you. Then I watched you fall, unable to do anything about it." Dastan's gut twisted with the haunting image in his mind.

Tamina's gaze dropped with her astonishment, as well as her hands. "But you kept going. Please tell me you did."

"I fought my uncle, yes, managed to remove the dagger before the damage spread out of control. The sands that were released ended up sending me back to the end of the battle here. Almost immediately I realized I had the chance to stop all of that from happening again."

"You did it," breathed Tamina, smiling.

"I still believe we make our own destiny. That being said, this is one I choose freely. It's the right one."

"Well, for that I'm glad."

Sunset bathed the city below in gold. Dastan reached over, daring to tuck Tamina's long hair behind one of her ears. She let his hand linger at her cheek. One of hers slipped up his shoulder. She leaned forward, closed the distance between them; the kiss felt perfectly natural in the moment.

What started as tenderness under her light grip shifted to outright pain, enough that Dastan flinched involuntarily. Tamina's surprise turned to shock when she looked down to find both her hand and his right sleeve tinted red.

"I'm sorry! How—I couldn't have—" she rambled.

"No, it's not your fault, I should have expected this. Back then, with Nizam, he, well…" His explanation trailed off thanks to the discomfort in his side welling up and sharpening. He drew one hand to the echo of the stab wound out of reflex.

Tamina's mouth dropped open. "And you were going to inform me of this when, exactly?"

"Well, you know now, right?" Dastan attempted to placate her, though his strained voice didn't help his case. Blood started to seep through his fingers.

"Come on, let's get you back to bed…"

The princess braced her shoulders under his free arm, impressively supporting his muscled frame. He didn't have too much trouble walking, his balance and strength just weren't at their best. The healers joined them right as he was able to collapse onto the bed.

"Doesn't look as bad as…before," sighed Tamina, taking a look under the shirt material. The wound to his shoulder was merely a shallow gash.

"I promise this is the last that you will have to deal with," Dastan bit down into a groan. Farrah pressed clean linen against his side to contain the bleeding. Far from reassured, Tamina took over the hands-on ministrations, so Farrah could join her fellow practitioner in compounding a fresh tincture.

"I will deal with it as long as necessary. You can withstand this just as you have the others."

"What if it's different this time? We have no real idea what this 'convergence' is going to do. The 'hand of the gods,' as you call it, has come full circle. For all we know they'll sweep me to the start again, made to walk the purgatory of an endlessly repeated cycle, or I'll be forfeit to the Sands themselves." The pain seared him from the inside, like a flame.

"Don't talk like that, please."

The healers rushed back, still adding ground herbs to steaming water from the hearth, kept at the ready for just such an occasion. The wiry, balding man furrowed his brow as he approached. He stretched a hand toward Dastan's skin, not even touching yet. "This isn't a normal fever heat, your Highness."

From Dastan's point of view, he felt as if the sun itself was rising within his chest. Wisps of blinding light, not dark, began to lap at the edges of his vision. Far from being a reassurance, however, the growing waves of brightness carried with them that sandy weight he remembered from the first night. A pressure that threatened to suffocate him despite knowing nothing was there.

"Maybe it's for the best. I-I can accept it."

"I'm not ready for you to…" Tears shone on Tamina's cheeks, when he could see them clearly enough. Her healers carefully fed him the ready medicine, though he hardly registered the reflex to swallow until some of the liquid trickled down his airway, throwing him into a coughing fit. Everything seemed unreal after that. Like a mirage, slowly blurring away. Swirling, gathering into a fiery cyclone around him.

And then it all exploded. Any sign of the room and its occupants disappeared. Raging hot wind snatched at Dastan's clothes, his hair. Fine debris pelted him, though it didn't necessarily hurt as he thought it should. He had no sense of place, how far his surroundings extended, whether he stood or lay flat, or which direction was up for that matter. He simply _floated_ in this existence.

A shape coalesced out of the burning light. Smaller, slight in build, a cloak rippling from its shoulders. For a moment Dastan both hoped and feared that Tamina was here as well, but he quickly realized different.

It was a young girl. She paid no mind to the storm around them. He could tell she gazed directly into his eyes even before he could make out her features. An oasis of peace amid the turmoil assaulting his senses. Dastan had no idea who she was, and yet he felt like he didn't need to know. Or rather, that he knew by meaning instead of in actuality.

The girl gave Dastan a gentle smile. Holding out her hands, she beckoned him toward the concentrating aura behind her. He couldn't decide if there was something on her palms—not that he had the chance to find out. A flash of pain struck his own hands as they touched, immediately followed by the whole chaos crashing in on them. Only then did his awareness finally go black.


	7. Chapter 7

**I've been so horrible, I'm sorry. Just about every review has been about the cliffie, and wanting to know soon what happens next (I tried to respond when I could-second sorry to guest reviewers-and let people know I was going to get this done if it was the last thing I did). Special shout out to those of you who have stuck through the waiting, as well as the recent ones liking and following, since you managed to find this story even though it's been so long since I've updated! Currently I'm trying to decide if I need any more wrap up, or if this rounds out the story as it is. Thoughts welcome. Fair warning, my whole October schedule is about to be ridiculous, if it ends up looking like I should do another chapter.**

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Heat cocooned Dastan, so much so that sweat covered his skin, plastered his hair to his face and neck. He didn't feel any bandages this time. Aside from a dull ache that radiated along with the fever, he had no frame of reference for what had happened. The corners of the room hid behind darkness that pressed in on the faltering glow of candles.

His throat was parched again. Before he could attempt to speak, however, Tamina's anxious face hovered into view. Her expression relaxed considerably when she saw that he was indeed awake. She also held a finger to her lips, and pointed.

Dastan groggily turned his head. King Sharaman slept propped up by a high-backed chair, snoring softly. Confused and worried, Dastan looked back at Tamina.

"You've been unconscious for two days. The echo passed by the first morning, but the fever persisted. Since we didn't know…how it would turn out, I couldn't deny your family the right to see you," she explained in a whisper.

"My brothers…?" Dastan finally rasped. The princess reached for something nearby, held it up for him. He gratefully accepted the cool water.

"They have visited regularly, when not carrying out duties for your father."

"How much do they know?"

"I didn't reveal the depth of your uncle's ambition, if that's what you mean. The Sands are known through legend, so their power itself is not secret. I explained to your father how you used the dagger to get to the truth, and that the effect must have built up, rebounded. It was close enough to the truth without having to elaborate further." Tamina bit her lip. "Besides, you trusted your family to side with you before when you needed it the most."

"When I felt we had no other choice, but yes. Father will respect it as part of Alamut's sacred mission, even if it's not what we were raised to believe. But if one wrong person hears of its existence, and gets ideas…"

"Perhaps we just need to have faith that it will turn out all right."

Dawn began to filter through the balcony curtains. A light breeze wafted through, which chilled Dastan slightly (he was glad for the covers now). It also roused the sleeping king.

"Hmm…what? Oh. Forgive me, Princess, it's both easier at my age and harder on these old bones to drift off like that. I suppose I had best retire for—Dastan, God be praised, you're awake!"

Pure relief washed over Sharaman's greying features. Weariness only aged him more, though Dastan felt instantly more at ease to see the concern lift from his father's shoulders.

"Your brothers will want to hear the news as soon as possible. We knew that you would not let this trial overcome you. Your strength runs deep, my son."

"Thank you, Father. I do feel significantly improved," Dastan replied. "You should get some real rest of your own. I promise I won't go anywhere."

"Not so fast, I'm not that feeble just yet. Seeing you awake again has given me new energy."

"All the same, maybe we shouldn't test how much I have right away. I look forward to sitting and talking with you at length when we are both in better shape."

"You are right, of course. Just know that I am more proud and grateful for you than words can express." Sharaman gripped Dastan's wrist with affection still tinged with desperation. As if reluctant to physically let him go, let alone out of his sight. But after a few seconds of contemplative eye contact, the king stood.

Dastan gave his father's arm a reassuring squeeze in return. "I'm sure Tus or Garsif—probably both of them—will gladly take watch in the meantime."

Sharaman chuckled at this, tipped a nod to Tamina, and stepped out of the chamber. She accompanied him to the door, then returned to the bedside. Dastan raised an eyebrow.

"If anyone should be getting some rest, it's you. People will start to get suspicious."

"Do I strike you as someone who cares about the opinions of others regarding my personal matters?"

"I'm just saying, you look exhausted. Beautiful, and unwavering, but exhausted. I meant what I told my father. I'll still be here when you come back." He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair away from her face. That's when he noticed it—his confused surprise must have shown, because Tamina followed his gaze.

A star-like design had appeared on his left palm, dark against the skin, almost like a tattoo. They had both seen the image before. Tamina wore it when they met in Alamut's throne room, painted in gold. This one more closely resembled those of the priest turned Hassansin. Dastan raised his other hand. A mirror image.

"Wh-where did these come from? What else did I miss while I was asleep?" he stammered.

"This wasn't our doing. The markings appeared after the height of the echo subsided. A rush of wind circled the room for a few moments, only to vanish as suddenly as it arrived. At first we feared you had stopped breathing, you were so still," Tamina explained very fast. She continued to study his expression. "What did you see?"

"A girl…this solitary girl appeared out of a whirlwind of light and…I don't even know how to describe it. It was like her hands burned mine when she reached for them. I felt as if I knew her, although I've never seen her before."

Tamina's face lit up gradually, much like the sunrise behind her. "It seems the gods made their determination."

"I guess that's one way to put it," mused Dastan. He probed one palm with the opposite thumb, thinking. Definitely not ink. The pattern was seamlessly part of the flesh, in fact a casual observer might assume by the weathered appearance that it had always been there. And yet Dastan could _sense_ a distinct difference. He meant what he said about helping Tamina protect the Sands, but wasn't sure he was ready to take on divine responsibility.

"Don't let it worry you for now. You'll learn the ways of the temple," Tamina assured him.

"I can't say I ever saw myself becoming any kind of priest…then again, I never expected to be plucked off of the street and made a prince, either."

"There are those who maintain the high temple, and there are those who serve in other capacities. The man from whom you first took the dagger, for example. I didn't say you had to change who you are. There is a reason the gods chose to set _you_ on this path. Though I do hope you take to using your diplomatic instincts more often before your combat ones."

"That I can try to work on."

Dastan became quite aware of how close she hovered. The way she didn't shy away from the intimacy of the moment. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to savor her company the way they had so easily spent that afternoon on the balcony, away from everyone and everything else.

A fervent knock on the door interrupted his wish. Dastan rolled his eyes at the sound of his brothers joking back and forth on the other side. Tamina's expression showed equal disappointment, which he found encouraging. He settled for kissing her hand.

"We'd best let them have their chance to harangue me before they drive everyone else to distraction. Take some time for yourself. With how much of the past days I've spent passed out, I can manage entertaining those two for a while. The healers can step in if I need anything else for a few hours."

"You're sure?"

"I think we both know you'll have plenty of time to hover over my wellbeing, unless there's something else about the power of the Sands you haven't shared. And to think, you used to not be able to get rid of me fast enough." He chuckled at his own joke. Tamina remained serious.

"Everything changes with time," she remarked. Then she leaned in and kissed him earnestly, boldly.

"So it does," Dastan muttered to himself, watching her leave. He never imagined they would make such a journey so quickly, let alone twice. The next moment, he had to tuck the thought away, as his brothers strolled in at full speed.


End file.
